Immortal
by Unicadia
Summary: Their destinies do not dictate they can be together . . . Rated T for a battle scene with blood.


**Hello everyone! Yes, I am still alive. And yes, I can write non-Les Mis fics! Enjoy!**

 **Much love,**

 **Unicadia**

* * *

The sky glowed red, and dark clouds gathered in the north. The armies of the Elves, Men, and Dwarves withered away that day on the plains beneath the mighty hand of the dark lord, Morgoth. Sweat, blood, and grime clung to the face of Maedhros, eldest of the Seven Sons of Fëanor. He stood alone with Maglor, his brother, in a sea of Orcs. Gritting his teeth and swinging his bloody sword, in the back of his mind Maedhros had not forgotten his brothers. Where were they, the idiots? He would never forgive himself, or face his mother ever again in whatever life, if he lost one of them. His mother had made him promise: _Take care of them, Maitimo, my sunbeam._

When the tide of Orcs ebbed momentarily, Maedhros turned to Maglor. "Where are they? Have you seen them?"

Maglor shook his head, breathing hard. "No. An hour ago, I saw a flash of red hair from over there." He waved his hand vaguely over the battlefield. Everything looked the same. "But it might have been you."

"Pityo . . ." whispered Maedhros. Another wave of Orcs came up from the east and Maedhros fell upon them with mad ferocity. This time, though, there was no relief. The Orcs kept flooding in. Maedhros yelled to his brother, "We have to fall back! Find them!"

Maglor nodded and ploughed his way through the Orcs. "Tyelko! Curvo! Ambarussa!" He wiped a trickle of blood from his cheek. "Moryo!" Half an hour later, Maglor had located all of his brothers, except, of course, for Caranthir. He ran off again, screaming, "Moryo!"

"Makalaurë?"

Maglor swung around. "Moryo?"

There was Caranthir in a throng of Orcs, his dark curls flying around his face, his black eyes shining with laughter, his sword flashing with blood. "Isn't this fun, Maka?"

Of course Caranthir the Dark would only be happy in a life-threatening situation like this. Maglor hewed his way to his brother's side. "Fall back!" he yelled. "Orders of Maitimo!"

"Half a minute, big brother. I'm having too much fun here!"

Maglor stood back to back with Caranthir, clutching his sword two-handed. "Make it quick, then!"

Caranthir's replying laugh was cut off, and Maglor caught him a moment before he collapsed to the ground. The Orc who had brought him down snarled and raised its axe. Maglor swung his sword out awkwardly, but it connected with the Orc's stomach, and it fell. Maglor dragged Caranthir behind a large rock and the examined him. His heart froze as he saw the cracked helmet and the blood streaming down Caranthir's already red face. "No, no, no . . ."

"Maka!" Maedhros ran up and stooped beside Maglor, followed by Celegorm, Curufin, Amrod, and Amras. Maedhros ran his fingers over Caranthir's face, then looked up at Maglor. "This is serious. We have to get out of here. Maka, do you know where his horse is?"

Maglor shook his head, exhausted. Maedhros sighed and glanced at the others. "Tyelko, take Moryo." He stood and gazed into the red-glow distance, as if looking for something. He hardened his jaw. "Let's go."

Caranthir bounced against Celegorm's chest as they galloped from the battlefield. His cloudy mind, barely conscious, rang with one thought: _Haleth._

* * *

 **Flashback - Caranthir**

I first saw her standing with her sword dripping red among the bodies of Orcs and men. Her head was turned aside, her eyes closed, her dark hair flowed around her armored shoulders. Tears ran down her cheeks.

I didn't approach her then, not yet. There were still a few stray Orcs about and I needed to see to my warriors. But I knew I would have to talk to the leader of what remained of the Haladin people – Lady Haleth.

Later, that evening, I came to her pavilion with two of my house. A few torches on stands lit the dark tent. Several other lords of the Haladin stood with their lady. She might have been pretty, but she was no great beauty by any standards of the Elves. Her sharp blue eyes took me off guard, though.

"Lady Haleth," I murmured, and bowed slightly. I generally make it a rule never to bow to anyone, but I admired this mortal woman for her courage and heart, even in the face of her father's and brother's deaths.

Haleth inclined her head toward me. "Thank you, Prince Caranthir, for coming to our aid." Her voice was proud, as if making up for her humble words. "Had you not, the Haladin would have been no more."

I spoke without thinking, as everyone says I always do, though, in my defense, I was thinking of her eyes. "How could I not, for one so brave and strong and . . . fair?" Then I acted without thinking, as everyone also says I always do. I reached out, took her hand, and kissed it. As I lifted my head, I saw Haleth staring at me, shocked, and the lords behind her also gaped. She jerked her hand out of mine. I hurriedly added, "I can give you and your people whatever you need, horses, food, clothing . . . you may even remain here in my lands to dwell, and have my protection."

"Thank you. You do me great honor, but -" and here her jaw hardened "- I do not want to tarry here overlong. My people desire to go further west where more of our kin live." [1]

I nodded, my gaze still fixed on her beautiful eyes. "Then, my lady, will you not stay for the week-long feast celebrating our victory?"

"Of course, my lord."

On a second impulse, I took her hand and kissed it again, this time longer. Then I bowed and exited the pavilion, feeling a little silly.

As I left, I heard one of the Haladin say in a quiet voice, "It would seem that the Prince Caranthir is quite stuck with the Lady Haleth."

She let out a scornful laugh. "As if a prince of the magnificent Elves would in any way be interested in me!"

* * *

"Haleth!" came Caranthir's scream from inside the tent.

Maglor pushed aside the tent flap and dropped to his brother's side. "Moryo, wake up. It was only a nightmare." He ran his fingers through his brother's sweaty hair, then grasped his hand. Caranthir shivered amid the damp bedclothes, his eyes wild. Maglor sat silent a moment, then freed his hand and laid it on his brother's head. It was no longer as hot as it used to be. The fever had finally broken. "How's the wound?" he whispered.

Caranthir passed his hand over the bloody bandage on his head. "Better," he mumbled.

"Want to tell me about it?" asked Maglor, but he already knew the answer. It was hard being the second eldest of seven, especially when your little brother was a proud jerk like Caranthir.

Caranthir rolled over. "No."

Maglor sighed. "This is the fifth night in a row, Morifinwë. What's going on? Who is this Haleth you cry to?"

Caranthir's voice, muffled. "She was a girl."

Maglor let out a forced laugh. "Obviously. But who-" He stopped. "'Was'?"

No reply from Caranthir.

Maglor leaned close to his brother's head. "You know something I don't, Moryo. Tell me. Please. I want to help you."

Caranthir rolled back over, his freckled face expressionless. "She was a mortal."

"Oh, Carnistir . . ." Maglor breathed, accidently using their mother's name for Caranthir.

Caranthir shot up from the pillow, his black eyes flashing like daggers. "Don't say that! Don't remind me!"

"I'm sorry."

"I know." Caranthir didn't lay down, but remained sitting, twisting his dark brown curls around his fingers. Maglor reached out and steadied his hand. Ever since that black night at Alqualondë when they slew their kin, Caranthir had developed the nervous habit of playing with his hair. Maglor considered his brother in sorrow – this nervous, dark Elf was not the shining-eyed prince whom he had known so long ago in their childhood home of Valinor. Too much had changed since those glorious days of their youth when they went hunting with their cousins.

"Moryo . . ." Maglor began, but at the same moment, Caranthir said in a quiet voice, "I loved her."

Stunned silence.

 _Oh, Carnistir, how could you?_ Maglor said in his mind.

* * *

 **Flashback - Haleth**

I did not feel festive for the victory feast. The loss of my father and Haldar, my brother, were still heavy on my heart. But I knew I couldn't refuse Prince Caranthir's invitation after what he did for us.

I came to his dark castle on Lake Helevorn along with many people of my house. We were escorted to the banquet hall, and there I had to stop and gape. Never before had I seen such a great, grand room. Heavy drapes had been drawn back from the huge windows lining the hall, letting in gallons of dust-sparkled light.

I sat at the long table on the dais at the end of the room, a few seats down from Prince Caranthir. He sat tall and straight, looking slightly bored. He didn't even glance at me.

After the banquet (which consisted of such food as I had never tasted before), the dancing began. I remembered the long ago days when I was a girl and twirled around with Haldar. I suppressed my tears. I needed to dance, even though I didn't know any of the steps. I looked up at the proud prince, who obviously had no intention of getting up, and I knew who I wanted to dance with.

I stopped a server and whispered, "Ask your lord if he will dance with me."

The server looked uncomfortable and whispered back, "The thing is, lady, Lord Caranthir has not danced since his youth in Valinor. I do not think-"

"He'll remember. Ask him." Youth in Valinor indeed. He looked no older than Haldar had been. The immortality of the Elves sometimes got on my nerves. The server nodded and left. I watched as he whispered in the prince's ear, and the prince glared and hissed something back. The server returned, sullen.

"He said he doesn't dance."

I glowered. "He does. He's snubbing me, that's what he's doing." I stood and marched over to his High Highness. He looked up at me, his face dark. "If it pleases you, lord, would you dance with me?"

Prince Caranthir's face darkened further. "I'm sorry, lady, but I don't dance."

"Your server told me you used to." I held out my hand and kept my gaze fixed on him. He glanced at the lords next to him, rolled his eyes, and stood.

"Then let us dance," he snarled, and took my hand in a bone-breaking grip.

We came onto the floor, everyone else making room for us and staring. Prince Caranthir never smiled. He placed his hand around my waist, hard, but in that instant, a fleeting look of surprise came over him. Then it was gone, and he adjusted his hand so it barely rested on me. Strange man. Or rather, Elf.

"You don't know our dances," he said. It was not a question.

I tossed my hair. "I learn fast."

It felt strange being so close to an Elf. Prince Caranthir was the first High Elf I had seen, but he had not been graced with extraordinary fairness. Truth to be told, he was very tall, but his skin was a peculiar patchy reddish-brown, which did not flatter his angular, freckled face. Dark brown, curly hair fell to his waist. But his eyes were his true beauty – black and deep and full of some strange, unearthly light.

We danced through several songs. Prince Caranthir didn't say anything about the steps, but left me to stare at his feet and figure it out myself. Once, I looked up and caught him smiling at me. He really should have smiled more – it lit up his whole face so you forgot the patchy reddish skin. But he resumed his passive gaze once more.

The dancing came to an end. I stepped away, my head held high, proud I had gotten Prince Caranthir the Dark to dance with me. Suddenly, he stepped forward, and with one hand grabbed me around the waist, and with the other took some of my hair and pulled my head gently back. Then he kissed me. Very hard. Everyone around us gasped and the music stopped. I felt something which must have been the immortal life of the Elves surging through me at his touch, but as lovely as it was, I couldn't let him get away with it, and I slapped his cheek. He released me quickly, but I saw no anger in his face, only infuriating smugness. I could have slapped him again, but instead I gathered my skirts and ran from the hall, my face as red as his.

* * *

It was high noon over the land, but for the Seven Sons of Fëanor, the sun had long gone down. Maglor tended to Caranthir, wishing he would talk to him. It wasn't until two weeks after the lost war against Morgoth that Caranthir left his bed. A strange change had come over the dark prince. He became even more taciturn than before, and when he did speak, it was usually to Maglor – or to himself. He would often sit alone on a grassy hill, playing with his hair, mumbling indistinctively. Maglor caught only one word: Haleth.

"Moryo, you have to get over her," Maglor told him. "You'll drive yourself crazy."

"I miss her, Maka. She understood me, like . . . Mother did."

Maglor grabbed his brother's twitching hand. "Stop it! Surely you could have married her?"

Caranthir shivered and looked away. Silence. It took Maglor about a minute before he realized Caranthir was crying. "Oh, Moryo," he whispered, and dared to embrace his brother. Caranthir didn't flinch like he usually did. Finally, he spoke.

"She would not. She wanted to, but she said she could not, for her people wished to live in their own lands and she could not abandon them. She also knew she would die someday. And she did . . ."

* * *

 **Flashback - Caranthir**

I think I fell in love with her when I first saw her eyes. In them I saw suffering and pain, but also strength and determination. I had never known any female like her, except for Aredhel, my cousin, and for Mother. Haleth reminded me a lot of Mother. They both had fiery spirits. I have been described as harsh, quick to anger, even cruel, but I do have love in my heart. I like to think that Haleth fell in love with me the same moment I did, or even better, at the dance that first night when I knocked her down with the kiss, but in reality, it took a little longer for her.

Every night that week, I would wait for her to ask me to dance. I knew that it was outside tradition, and several of my lords probably felt embarrassed for me, but I didn't care. I sensed her need to dance and used it to my advantage. I didn't kiss her again, though. It amazed me how, as a mortal, she felt so delicate, so close to death. I felt that I could only touch her softly, or I would crush her. Little by little, Haleth warmed up to me enough to talk to me more.

"What's your family like?" she asked that last night in her proud voice.

I made myself laugh. "Well, Maedhros is really annoying, as older brothers go. Celegorm picked on me all the time when I was little. He's also the handsomest of us all. Then there are the twins, Amrod and Amras. They're both red-heads, as is Maedhros. Curufin was born after me. He was father's favorite." I stopped, frowning at the memory. "Maglor is the gentlest. I remember him coming to be with me after I'd had a nightmare. I had a lot of nightmares when I was little."

Haleth watched me a long time. A smile cracked her face. "Haldar and I were twins. We always did everything together. We would race our horses, swim in the river, chase each other over hills and up trees. We also danced, of course." A crystalline tear caught in her eyes. I brushed it away impulsively and held her closer to me, but she didn't pull away.

"You miss him, don't you?" I whispered.

She nodded. "And my parents. Mother died when we were young."

My heart caught on her words. "I miss my mother, too. She didn't die, but she is far away, back in Valinor."

Haleth touched my cheek. "You will meet again, someday. I know it." An uncomfortable chill ran through me at that.

"Haleth," I said, knowing I was speaking without thinking again, "I need to be blunt with you. I love you. So much."

She snorted. "I knew that." And she kissed me. I didn't mind kissing death.

Beneath her lips, I said, "Will you . . . marry me, then?"

She moved away from me, her head lowered. Then she looked up, tears glistening in her beautiful eyes. I tightened my arms around her and pressed my face close to hers. "What is it? Tell me, sweet."

Haleth shook her head. "Lord -"

"Caranthir." I kissed her again. "Just Caranthir."

"C-Caranthir, we . . . we cannot be together."

I thought I would die then. "Why not?"

"My people do not wish to stay here, but to live further west. I am their leader, and my first duty is to them. But even more so, you are immortal. You will live forever in eternal youth. But me -" She looked away. "I will grow old and die, and leave you alone and desolated."

"I will be alone and desolated if you don't marry me," I cried. "I would rather be with you, if only for a brief time, than never."

She suddenly burst into tears and pressed her face into my tunic, heedless of everyone around us. I could feel staring eyes all around, but I ignored them. I held Haleth as tightly as I dared and wept with her.

The following day, Haleth and her people made ready to leave. I stayed with her, not speaking. All necessary words had already been spoken. At last, it was time. Haleth stood in front of me, her head bowed, her body quivering. I could feel the disapproval of my watching lords, the surprise of the Haladin. I knew what they were waiting for, but I didn't give it to them. Not yet.

I drew Haleth close and kissed her, gently.

"I won't forget you," she whispered.

"I can't forget you." I kissed her ear.

She looked up. "But you must let me go. Please, Caranthir." Confused, I released her. She turned away, wiping her eyes, and swung onto her horse, riding off forever. I never saw her again.

* * *

Caranthir awoke on the grassy hill to see Maglor lying beside him. Maglor looked over and smiled. "How is it?" Caranthir's mind felt clear and calm, more than it had been for a long time. Only now did he understand what Haleth had meant. He could no longer dwell on the past. He smiled back.

"I'm fine, Maka."

* * *

 **[1] Quotes from Chapter 17 of _The Silmarillion_ by J. R. R. Tolkien, "Of the Coming of Men into the West."**

 _ **Last edited: 5/19/18**_


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